


Paman

by openlybiromantic



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Magnus Bane, Bisexuality, Drama, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Fraywood Brotp, M/M, alec is shook, clary has a downworld family before she has a shadowhunter one, fight me, hes still a dick, its mainly about clary and magnus tho, magnus is clary's uncle, tbh, valentine plot still happens yay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 15:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14772153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/openlybiromantic/pseuds/openlybiromantic
Summary: Jocelyn first brings Clary to the High Warlock of Brooklyn when she's only 2 years old to get her memory wiped and to check for anything lingering her father had done to her.Magnus was nearing 450 years of age, and in that time he had never really seen a child grow up, never had a child become part of his small family. That was until Clary Fairchild came hurtling into his life like a tornado of crayons and temper tantrums.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Paman, according to Google, means Uncle in Indonesian which i thought was a fitting title for now
> 
> in this story, Jocelyn is a lot tougher, a lot more cold than she is in the show or the books considering what she went through and that has an impact on who Clary relies on more. She still loves her mum, but wants to save her more out of wanting to make her proud than any very close connection. Jocelyn had been very badly traumatized from her experience with Jonathon, and though she loves Clary she cannot get over the fact that she was also experimented on. This leads to a distrust between the two and a nasty mother/daughter dynamic.

It was a quarter past 8 in the morning and someone apparently had to audacity to walk into the wards surrounding his loft, with the frantic energy of an oncoming apocalypse. To be fair, it was quite possible the world was ending considering his line of work, but before at least 10 am, Magnus Bane, the High Warlock of Brooklyn may well be the one to burn it down himself.

Sighing he forcibly dragged his body from his silk sheets and ambled through his Italian villa-inspired loft apartment, silently appreciating his interior decorating skills considering he had been blackout drunk when his magic had reworked the space from the minimalistic vogue-ish style he had preferred a week ago.  
Please be a lost cat, girl scout, a Mormon, anything that didn’t require more than 3 minutes of attention before he could dive straight back into his King-sized bed. Yeah, nice wish there, Magnus.

The solid marble panel slid with little resistance across the door, revealing a pair of frantic green eyes, red hair and oh for Lilith’s sake, runes. Shadowhunter. Why can nothing be simple? Why must there always be some emergency in the Shadow-world?

Just as he was prepared to shut the panel and retreat into his Mediterranean safehouse, she began to plead.

“Please, please, I need your help. I can’t go to the Institute and I know things have been rough recently between the Shadowhunters and the Downworld, but I’d do anything.”  
Once again, he forced back a sigh.

“You can’t afford me, Nephilim. Go bother your own people if you’re in need of assistance, I hear you’re usually very good at refusing the help of others.”  
Her eyes widened, she thrust her hand through the gap in the door to keep his attention, the other firmly down by her side. Curious.

“I will pay anything. Please. I need you, I will do anything, Warlock Bane, it’s not me it’s my daughter!”

A voice that reminded him annoyingly of his father rattled around in the back of his mind came to the forefront to express its disappointment: Oh, no no no. Not a child. Dear God, Magnus surely your bleeding heart has bled enough for Shadowhunters this decade, don’t go wasting it again, just because a child is involved. That wouldn’t be wise. Honestly, Magnus lives for pissing off his dad, and nothing would be more shameful than helping Shadowhunters in this political climate.

Magnus attempted to convince himself that annoying his father is the only reason why his door was slowly, cautiously opening but we all know that that is not the case.  
“Come in. I suppose I am already awake now, I can see what I can do for you,” Magnus stepped back to allow the woman to walk through and as he suspected clutching her freehand was a very young child, only 2 years old at best guess, trailing behind her mother with the same bright ginger hair and mossy green eyes. Both ladies followed him into the loft, one in suspenseful determination and the other in curious awe.

Once they are all seated on a cast iron sofa, covered in plush cream cushions, tea and juice in hand, Magnus waved at the woman for the explanation to begin. She nodded, took a sip of Oolong, and began.

“My name is Jocelyn Fairchild, and this is my child Clarissa. Two years ago, I was married to Valentine.” At this, Magnus’ hackled rightly began to raise. The wife of the genocidal maniac he had lost many friends to had turned up at his door. How fucking dares she? As he rose to forcibly remove her from the apartment she continued to speak.

“Two years ago, I killed my husband and son in a house fire to stop the madness he was inflicting upon the world and ran as far from Idris as was possible to escape the retribution from both the Clave and Circle and began to live life as a Mundane. Two months later, and I gave birth to this little rascal and I knew I could never go back. This is Clarissa Fray, she is two and a half now and she is Valentines child, she would be executed if we were to be discovered. Clary say hi to the nice man.”

Damn conniving so and so, playing on his heart strings. He sat back down.

“As distressing as that sounds, I don’t see how I come into this in any way.”

“In order to protect her I need to fully embrace mundane life, which I am trying to do, truly. But she can never know who or what she is. I need you to wipe her memory of the Shadow world, and keep it cleansed, to suppress her Sight,” Jocelyn looked down at Clary, who was busy scribbling on some paper Magnus had summoned, completely oblivious to the painful request her mother had just made.

Magnus himself was in disbelief. How could a mother repress the Sight of her own child? Granted, he didn’t really know much about mothers, but he could guess that this was a step too far.

“You just want to hide her away? Keep from her the biggest part of her identity?” he grilled, glancing at the child in question. If this were to be done, she would live in ignorance for her entire childhood, even through adolescence and he could find pity for her somewhere in his blackened heart.

“I just want to protect her. I have no other choice, Mr Bane.”

That much was clear. Magnus could tell that Jocelyn was doing this out of love, that she could not find another way and that maybe Clary could live a life far away from the affects of her father, and the prejudice that always followed Shadowhunters like a bad smell. Maybe even growing up as a Mundane could improve her tolerance to the world, to the differences in people, keep her hopeful away from the incessant training and pain that the Nephilim inflict upon themselves. Maybe, raised away from the brainwashing of the Clave and the horrific genocide of the Circle, a new type of Shadowhunter can be born.

“Magnus, please,” he corrected her. “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing quite a lot of each other over the next few years.”

Jocelyn shot up out of the cushions as if the cotton had burned her. “You mean you’ll help?”

“For a price,” he sipped from his tea, now grown cold.

“This is only a temporary fix, as powerful as I am I cannot remove the Sight entirely. Things may slip through, and for best results its necessary that you bring her back every 2 years to me, until she is 12. Once Clary reaches adolescence I have the feeling that she will question everything in much more detail, and to avoid any mishaps, it’s best that she then comes yearly, around the same time.”

Magnus got up to rifle through his cabinets, reaching behind glass vial after glass vial, while never fully turning his back to the Shadowhunter. After times like those just past it’s essential to remain wary, lest one wishes to be on the receiving end of a seraph blade.

“Also, this will only be able to work up until she turns 18, an adult brain is not as flexible as a child’s and we don’t want to be causing any brain damage now do we? When she turns 18, she is no longer my problem.”

“Of course, I understand perfectly. When can you start?”

“Bring her back here two months from now, on her second birthday. There is a date that I doubt you will forget. Honestly you mortals, memories like flies.”

Jocelyn nodded briskly, auburn hair escaping the uptight ponytail it had been scraped back into. You can take the Shadowhunter out of Idris, but you can’t take the Idris out of a Shadowhunter, he supposed.

She once again grabbed Clary’s chubby little hand and rose to leave the loft. “Thank you, Magnus, I will always remember this.”

“As long as you bring that little Pumpkin back on time and you pay what you owe, we won’t have a problem, Shadowhunter. I’ll see you in two months”


	2. Chapter 2

Two months had passed. On August 23rd Jocelyn with Clary in arm had made the journey back to the Warlocks apartment in Brooklyn. 

Just as before, once she crossed an invisible threshold, the marble slide in the door peeled itself away and revealed the deep brown eyes of the one and only Magnus Bane.   
Up until that moment, Jocelyn had not felt any remorse for what she was about to do, no regret at all. In her eyes, all she is doing is saving her daughter from a life of despair and suffering and she will do anything to make sure Clary would not need to live the same life she had, she would do anything to make sure that Clary did not end up like her brother.   
But once she reached the circular door of the loft a feeling of nervousness overcame her for once in her life. Jocelyn had always been a very forward person, preferring to throw herself into situations rather than sit and worry and yet now she could not shake the anxiety that came with the mystery of Bane. Once she had mentioned Valentine’s name he seemed as though he would not have hesitated from banishing her from his lair and yet one mention of her daughter and it all had faded away. Curious, a half demon with a soft spot for children. 

She stepped over the physical threshold and jostled Clary lightly to wake the sleeping girl. As adorable as the child was, she was at risk, and no dallying over cuteness would change that. 

With this line of thought, she passed her only living child to the warlock standing before her, unusually quiet and solemn for someone of his reputation. Magnus took her into his arms easily, smiling down at the girl. The anxiety completely melted away. This man is centuries of years old, he certainly knows how to look after children, Jocelyn thought to herself. 

“Hey there, honeybee. I’m Magnus, remember me?” Clary shook her head, a frown forming on her angelic face.

“Okay Clary, Mommy’s gonna have to go now. Be good for Mr Bane now.”

She rose out of her crouch, back straight and face as hard as stone. 

“Excuse me, Fairchild, that wasn’t the agreement we had. I am not your babysitter,” Magnus huffed, though placing Clary squarely on his hips suggesting otherwise.

Jocelyn frowned almost as angelically as her daughter and replied, “No but a string of murders has been brought to my attention and the Lightwoods in the New York institute are too busy looking after their own children to go on a hunt. The Institute had been abandoned for years and is in no shape to actually run.”

He nodded his assent reluctantly. She did not really need to be here for the memory wipe, and plus she was beginning to get on Magnus’ nerves a little already. Shadowhunters, can’t stop killing things to save the world for the life of them.

With that, she took off, almost slamming the door behind her in her haste to get out. To get away.   
Magnus was disappointed in the change of attitude, but not surprised. She had seemed so helpless yesterday, so much more caring towards her child than the regular Shadowhunter. He must have judged her very badly unless it were only a ploy to get a dirty warlock’s assistance. Goddamn it. Well now he had the little girl in his arms he did not seem to have much of a choice. 

“Okay Peanut, it seems that mommy has got some work to do so you’ll be spending the day with me is that okay?” he turned his head towards the girl, attempting to wipe off the annoyance in his own face from being used for a Shadowhunters own gain yet again. But he couldn’t take it out on Clary. 

However, with her mother gone and in the presence of a complete stranger, Clary’s instincts had begun to go haywire. With all the force of a monsoon she began to wail, tears welling and spilling like sheets of rain down her pudgy face. 

Her hands flailed about, hitting Magnus on the shoulder as a demand to be released from the awful prison of his arms and her face had reddened almost to match her hair.   
Magnus understandably began to panic. He had never dealt with a toddler in all of his long life, no matter how many times in the past he had wished for once of his own. He was at a loss here, so far out of his depth that he immediately considered calling Raphael, who had grown up with 4 younger siblings while he was a Mundane.   
No. He was the most powerful warlock on the North American continent, he could deal with a screaming infant. Alright, deep breaths.   
With an exhale he snapped his left hand, his right currently underneath the baby banshee, and willed smoke to rise from his index finger. 

Just as he did, he manipulated the wisp into the shape of a kitten, coming close and butting its formless head against the little girl’s, causing a giggle to erupt, breaking the chain of sobs. Clary’s hand reached out and began to pet the smoke cat, scratching under the chin and stroking along the imaginary fur.   
The sobs started to lesson, and Magnus’ breathing began to calm along with them, until both of their breaths had completely returned to normal.   
He wiped away her tears from her reddened cheeks and walked over to the kitchen to begin to make tea. Maybe there was a reason behind Jocelyn’s aversion to her child, to her willingness to leave a two-year-old on her birthday alone with a man she had met just once before. She had mentioned something about killing her own son, there must be some sort of trauma there, or maybe just a child murdering lunatic. Sociopathic if today was anything to go by. 

With that disturbing image, he waved his head over the locks of hair, blue trails of fog spilling out of his fingertips and over the charge in his embrace. No, it did not seem like she had been abused, there was no physical tells of it yet anyway, though something strange came through the spell. Clary had the aura of a fully trained Shadowhunter already, one complete with the angelic rune and all which was impossible, an infant Shadowhunter is barely distinguishable from an infant Mundane! 

“Biscuit.”

He looked down. 

She was staring up at him, face finally returned to normal and her green eyes clear of distress. Instead she seemed to be in the mood for making demands.

“Biscuit with tea.”

“What do we say when we want something, Clary?” 

She shrugged, as if she truly did not know the idea of manners. 

“We say please. Has your mother taught you nothing?”

“Biscuit please,” was the only response he got from her. 

“Okay, okay Biscuit, hold on.” 

They walked back over to the coffee table once again, with tea, biscuits and crayons floating behind them before gently settling themselves down, mugs on coasters and the Crayola on the fresh pad of paper in front of Clary. Magnus had noticed those months ago that once the kid had access to drawing, she hardly looked up again for the duration of the meeting. 

This time was no different. Immediately, Clary went for the black crayon and began to scribble haphazardly over the blank sheet of paper, completely entranced in her task. Blissfully, this lead to Magnus being able to formulate a plan in his head. He needed to extract memories every two years but honestly, this child would be a beacon of hope for Downworlder / Shadowhunter relations if he played his cards right, they could avoid the chance of another Uprising altogether. The daughter of Valentine no less.   
He would need to play a bigger role in her life, to steer her in the right direction. He could do that, she was a lovely enough child when she wasn’t screaming and plus her mother seems to be a bit of a bitch too, so he could provide the much-needed affection children crave. Having a child to almost call his own would only be another upside. 

A tugging on his sleeve brought him back into the present. 

“Mag look! Kitty!” 

Clary had drawn the grey smoke apparition he had conjured, with as much artistic detail as a two-year-old could manage, as well as a collection of other brightly coloured scribbles. 

“That looks amazing sweetie-pie! You’re very good at this!” he exclaimed, taking the picture from her hands to stare at it intensely as though he were an art critic. (He had been an art critic once, during the renaissance. It was interesting enough though the people were all stuck up. Although, Michelangelo for one was a bit of a party animal he had to say.)

“The exquisite use of blending! The bold yellow coming through the texture of crayon over crayon truly depicts the artist’s primal wish for biscuits, complimenting the tea to the highest degree. And what is this?!” He yelled, shocking the girl into dropping her snack, peering over to her own drawing out of curiosity. 

“Oh, the artist truly uses the daring lines to show her inner torment, absolutely stunning,” he finishes, staring arrogantly back down at her until he bursts into a fit of laughter at her speechless little face. Unthinkingly, she begins to laugh as well. The both of them sat there for a while, doodling and drinking tea in a comfortable silence. She seemed like a shy kid, but hopefully she'd grow out of that soon enough. 

From somewhere deep in the loft a bell chimes and he knew the signal one hour left till the end of his work day, meaning now was the last chance to perform the memory wipe spell. He would need to take his time, to avoid any damage and the later that this was done, the harder he would find it to do to the little girl. 

“Come here Pumpkin,” he said softly, kneeling in front of her on the sofa, his arms bracketing her small body. Gently, he placed both hands on her head, rings tangling in her hair and her eyes closed automatically. He sighed and with an exhale investigated her mind. 

As she was so young, her memories were not up to the standard of you and me, rather a jumble of images, sounds, with no particular meaning attached but one had to lay the foundation somewhere. 

Magnus found one thought of a pixie she played with while at the park nearby and carefully pulled at the edges of the memory, tugging it into his own brain instead. Another of her mother’s runes, and today he pulled at the clip of the smoke cat he had created to calm her.   
Once he was done, he laid the order for all the coming memories of the Shadow World to automatically remove themselves until he saw her next, in two years’ time. He knew this would put a strain on her mind, potentially causing painful migraines for one so young, but if it kept this child safe, then that was the price her mother was willing to pay.   
Magnus drew back his fingers and wiped once again at Clary’s tears that had welled up unawares. 

“Hey biscuit. How are you feeling?” 

Before he could get an understandable answer, the wards pinged in his mind, alerting him to a presence.

“Stay back little one, I don’t know who this could be.”

Clary did as she was told, sliding down to a place beneath the arm of the sofa while Magnus swept over to the door panel.   
Behind it was Jocelyn Fairchild, looking relaxed for someone who had abandoned their child all day. She was dressed in mundane clothing, a knit jumper and jeans that completely covered all her Angel Marks, her freshly washed hair in a severe bun at the top of her head. She apparently had gone home after her demon hunting, enough time to spare to show up at the very last moment at Magnus’ to collect her daughter. 

“Is it done?” her voice was low, conspiratorial as though this were some shady operation that it most definitely was. 

“Yes, yes, her memories are gone but you must bring her back on her fourth birthday unless you want all my hard work to disappear.” He turned his head back into the apartment to search for the kid and called for her to come to the door. 

“Here you go, Clary. Mom’s back all unharmed. I’ll see you again soon.”   
Magnus opened the door wider and let the little girl slip out and grab hold tight of her mother’s hand. 

“Thank you, Mr Bane, I will await your invoice.” 

Jocelyn walked towards the stairs, not looking over her shoulder or uttering anything more of a goodbye to the man who had just taken care of her child. Whatever. Magnus waved at Clary as she trailed along behind her mother, who waved back with equal enthusiasm and he thought god help that poor kid.


End file.
